


Fuckable Freud Friday collection

by kuillsins (EykielAfterDark)



Category: MapleStory
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-15 04:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1290958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EykielAfterDark/pseuds/kuillsins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of shameless one-shots featuring Maplestory's dearest scholar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Candlelight

**Author's Note:**

> ~~WILL TRY TO UPDATE EVERY FRIDAY/SATURDAY but life might kinda get in the way~~
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Also, I'm more than willing to take prompts!!~~
> 
>  
> 
> life totally got in the way.

**1\. Candlelight — EunFreud**  

The room flickers and plunges into darkness. Freud looks up, surprised. Time passes by far too quickly nowadays, especially with the new books he’d been given. He lays his notebook across the pages of the book he was perusing to mark his place before leaning back, stretching and flexing his sore shoulders.

‘Really, Freud… Reading in the dark?’

Eun Wol strides into the room, carrying a book of his own. Freud smiles gently as the lithe man settles into a chair opposite his desk.

‘My candle went out.’

‘Because you have been burning yours at both ends,’ murmurs Eun. Well, he hasn’t, but Freud knows that something else is being implied about his working habits. There’s the sound of a matchstick being lit before the face of his gentle friend comes into view.

Freud chuckles and leans back on his chair, watching Eun replace the messy candlestand with a fresh one, and a new candle. ‘Ah, what’s a bibliophile like me to do?’

‘You’re a workaholic,’ Eun states, splaying his book open over his lap. ‘I don’t suppose you’d mind the companionship, once in a while?’

Eun, unlike any of the other heroes, has a very different presence. His gaze is ever-gentle but soft, the muted dusk of winter. Perhaps his mercenary life has taught him to mask his presence, making himself as noticeable as a slight draft in autumn. Yet when Eun settles, he makes Freud feel peaceful — _at peace_ , the stifling, hazy fever of the day somehow always melting in Eun’s quiet.

Freud shakes his head, smiling. It is always nice to have Eun around. ‘If you don’t mind the mess of books and scrolls on my table… feel free.’

Eun raises an eyebrow. In the silence and the flickering candlelight, they look down at the whirlwind that has lost all its energy conveniently over Freud’s desk.

Freud chuckles sheepishly. ‘I guess… I guess sometimes I get so absorbed in my reading that I forget my surroundings…’

He blinks as Eun raps him lightly over the head with a book. He doesn’t move, merely chuckling and waiting for Eun to pull the book away. The mercenary, unlike Freud, has always valued actions over words.

‘What are you going to do if your room caught fire?’

‘Well, I should be fine if you’re around to tell me when my clothes are burning.’

Eun looks surprised at his forthrightness. Freud grins, secretly waiting for the moment when Eun will prove too embarrassed to hold his gaze.

The mercenary opts for a weak glare. ‘Are you using that as an excuse to keep me around you more often?’

‘Perhaps.’ Freud carefully keeps his voice noncommittal.

He watches Eun watch him, admiring the deep soulful hues, he can tell Eun is trying his best to read Freud but failing. His eyes are far too expressive, Freud muses, and he knows it is why Eun prefers not to look someone in the eye when they’re talking.

Eun growls weakly, ‘Do not set your room on fire.’

‘I won’t,’ Freud smiles, knowing Eun doesn’t appreciate this teasing banter.

‘But do you need an excuse to keep me around?’ Eun asks softly.

_Do you doubt that I will always be there for you?_

That is the question that Eun is truly asking. But Freud has known, has always known, that Eun is loyal to the ones he trusts, and Eun trusts Freud. He knows because of the way Eun never questions his plans, the way Eun follows his directions down to the smallest detail, and is always there to support him with a silent gaze that _he understands_ why Freud is doing what he’s doing. This childish faith is the deepest of ways a mercenary can show his trust, and Eun had been doing that almost immediately upon knowing Freud.

‘Will you ever say no?’

Another riddle. Eun’s eyes narrow imperceptibly and Freud chuckles despite himself at the mercenary’s frustration.

And Eun gives up. The ball is on his court, and Freud recognises the flash of determination as Eun raises his head to meet his eyes.

‘I can’t even if I wanted to, Freud.’ He holds his gaze for a few seconds more before dropping it, turning away. In the shimmering gold of candleflame Freud is sure Eun’s cheeks are tinged just the slightest bit crimson. ‘Now wipe that smug look off your face before I do it for you.’

Freud smirks wider, making sure he sounds all the more full of himself. ‘Oh. I definitely need some help there.’

Eun stands up immediately, closing the book in his hands and putting it on the floor. There is a strange glint in his eyes that Freud hasn’t seen before, and it speaks of an unmistakable lust that is as overwhelming as a summer haze. It sends a strange shiver through him as he gets up and slowly begins to tidy away the books on his desk.

‘Freud.’

‘Yes, Eun?’

Eun closes the distance between them and Freud takes the chance to snake his hand around the shorter man’s chin, tilting it upwards so he can admire that strange, flickering lust in the half-light. Eun almost purrs at his touch, leaning in.

Eun murmurs, ‘Your desk is too messy.’

Freud is enraptured by the way those soft lips move and leans in to capture them between his, swallowing Eun’s breathy gasp of surprise and whatever other words he wanted to say. Freud drags his tongue across his lips, they are far more tender than he expects, and he feels Eun part his mouth just slightly, letting him in.

Freud takes it and Eun immediately begins to suckle fiercely on his tongue. The sensation goes straight to his groin and Freud struggles to remember that Eun is but a man who hides the fiercest of his emotions behind his cold exterior. He shudders as Eun pushes aside the last of the thick, hardcover books and pulls away, their breaths loud in the silence.

Carefully, Eun sets the candle beside the inkpot before turning back to Freud.

‘I apologise,’ Freud smiles. He reaches over to clasp Eun’s hands, but Eun pulls away.

Eun smirks and instead brings his hand to brush gently across Freud’s face. ‘Compensation.’

He brings his hands gently down Freud’s neck and Freud tilts his head to give him space. Gently, almost reverently, Eun traces down his soft skin, fingers flitting about to feel the crevasses of his collarbones through his robe. His hands map out the contours of his lean chest, and Freud savors Eun’s touch, like Eun is guessing the form of a gift before he has unwrapped it.

Then across the desk, he grasps the hem of Freud’s robe and slips it off his shoulders. Freud feels his breath quickening as Eun’s nimble fingers makes short work of the buttons of his shirt, peeling it off, his eyes hungrily roving across his bare chest. He meets Freud’s gaze wordlessly and Freud circles around, sitting into the chair that Eun was occupying just a minute ago.

Eun meets his eyes. The contact seems chaste, the way Eun meets his gaze almost shyly. There’s no doubt about the hunger that lurks in those gentle eyes. Carefully, Freud takes one of Eun’s hands, planting a long and heartfelt kiss on the knuckles worn from years of work, tracing the calluses and ridges of his palm, mapping the lines there with soft grazes of his lips.

Freud hears an almost inaudible sound of need fall from the raven haired man’s mouth. The sound sends a fierce shudder through him and he closes his eyes, fastening his lips around Eun’s forefinger and sucking gently. He wants Eun to know how much he loves him, both as a friend and — dare he say it? — as a _lover_ … the thought gives him a pleasant buzz and he sucks harder, pressing his lips around the soft skin of his knuckle as he slides down.

And surely, Eun notices it too, because Eun is slipping another finger past his lips, feeling around his mouth and Freud makes sure to make love to it too, gently suckling and stroking his tongue along it. He arches into Eun’s touch when his hand lands on his torso, pushing out his chest as Eun brushes downwards. The fingers that dance around his now-heaving rib-cage feel almost adoring and he shivers when he looks up to see Eun’s eyes clouded over in desire.

Eun’s fingers roam across his chest and then circle around to his back, as if marking purely by touch that Freud is all his, and Freud can’t help but press against him, wordlessly giving himself into Eun. He closes his eyes and concentrates on Eun’s hand, taking the fingers as far as they can go all while his breathing gets heavier as Eun familiarises himself with Freud’s body for the first time.

‘Freud,’ whispers Eun, the name dropping from his lips and sending a chill across Freud’s skin like the first snow in winter.

‘Eun.’ He _moans_ the name like a prayer, it sounds wanton, a sound he’d make in the throes of sex, and it makes something carnal light up in Eun’s eyes.

Eun all but rakes his fingers down Freud’s torso, there’s real force behind it and Freud gasps from the pain that is mixed with sweet, intoxicating desire. Eun presses the sound back into Freud’s mouth with a third finger and Freud feels himself melting as he suckles on that too. Eun’s breath is suddenly louder as he slips his fingers down to Freud’s pants, dancing around the button and Freud shamelessly rocks his hips to rub against his hand.

Eun complies, popping the button open and Freud moans, the confining pressure of his jeans easing away and replaced with sheer hunger. He sucks fiercely on Eun’s fingers and manages to draw a hiss from the man. Eun’s attention doesn’t even shift from the damp spot on Freud’s briefs as he strokes Freud’s chin with a thumb, acknowledging his silent plea.

Freud swallows and presses his tongue against Eun’s fingers, while Eun trails his hands slowly over the bulge in Freud’s briefs, taking his time to savor the hard length there and to know its shape. Freud knows Eun is slowly committing everything to memory, this silent worshipping of his body and now his cock, as he slowly draws it out of Freud’s cotton briefs. Eun lets out this groan so guttural he wouldn’t imagine it was possible, and Freud hardens even more at the impossible desire that Eun has for him.

Freud watches Eun as he gets on his knees, whimpers and closes his eyes as Eunleans in and _breathes in the scent of his crotch_ , inhaling it like a drug with a long hiss of breath. It is then that he realises it isn’t just a gasp of breath, he realises Eun is muttering his name like the only mantra that can keep him sane. Eun inhales his scent and exhales his name all over his cock, dropping a gentle kiss across the tight skin of his sac.

‘Eun…’ Freud moans from around his fingers.

Eun looks up, nose still buried in the fine, wiry hairs at his groin.

‘Yes… Freud?’

Freud shudders and closes his eyes, unable to meet the glint there.

And Eun draws away, much to Freud’s dismay, and he can’t help but buck into the space where Eun’s warmth once was. Eun responds to his plea by palming his aching erection with one hand, and wriggles his fingers inside his mouth.

‘Yes, Freud?’ Eun repeats again, his voice slipping a notch lower, taking on an unmistakable husky overtone.

Freud shivers, he is already undressed and bared before the silent maelstrom of desire who is Eun, and surely Eun already knows. And Eun already does, but there’s something beautiful in seeing this normally-calm scholar unravel before him in nothing but gentle touches, and he doesn’t plan to give it up so quickly.

‘Please,’ Freud whispers.

Eun gets up again, resting a knee between Freud’s legs on the seat of the chair, leaning in to nuzzle into Freud’s neck. Freud shivers as the angle applies pressure on his already straining erection, rocking his hips against his knee and ruts his member against Eun’s cargo pants, uncaring of the damp streaks he’s leaving across the fabric.

‘Please.’

Eun shifts upwards to nibble on his earlobe, tongue flicking around the golden ring there, his breaths caressing the shell of his ear. Freud lets out a soft moan into the cascading strands of Eun’s charcoal locks. Eun gives his earring one last fierce tug with his teeth and moves swiftly to capture the beautiful sound before it finishes rolling off Freud’s lips.

‘Please,’ moans Freud, into the kiss, it doesn’t even matter that Eun can’t hear him, he wants Eun to take everything, his breath, his body, his love.

And these actions Eun understands fully, for he is pulling away and stripping, moving so swiftly that before Freud can even recover from the loss of that sweet friction, and before he even registers that Eun has him naked and in his arms, he’s being lowered to the desk and he can feel parchments and thin journals digging into his back.

Eun is uncorking a small vial of oil and he can hear the sickening sounds of it being slicked in his hands.

‘I came prepared,’ Eun murmurs, slightly smugly. Freud faintly registers a finger being pressed into his ass and he relaxes his convulsing insides to let it in.

‘You were planning to take me tonight?’ he gasps, his breath hitching as Eun’s finger slides further inside him.

Eun grins at him, a feral and wide smile. ‘Not really… I’ve been carrying this around for a week.’

Any protestations he has is cut off as Eun curls his finger inside him and he lets out a groan, relaxing as Eun quickly but gently starts moving it in and out, working the oil against the walls of his ass. He keeps his entrance relaxed for Eun to add in the next finger, shuddering as Eun rubs his fingers gently around but keeps away from his prostate and he groans in frustration, trying to twist his hips for him to touch him there.

Eun holds his hips down and carefully slides his fingers in and out, adding a third once Freud is relaxed enough. Eun watches the scholar gasp every time his fingers slide in completely, admires Freud’s eyes blown wide and lidded and glassy in the candlelight, drinking in the sight of the transparent precome trailing down to pool in the contours of his heaving midriff.

Freud clenches hard on Eun’s fingers with a moan and Eun’s other hand is running down his torso again, gently probing at his pert nipples. Again Eun rubs over them, making Freud shiver, Eun touches them as if claiming them and Freud willingly presses against him, the gentle touches running straight to his groin.

‘Please,’ whimpers Freud again, when he can no longer stand only having Eun’s fingers inside him, he wants to feel the full force of Eun’s desire for him.

Eun groans at this wanton sound, one he’d never imagine fit to fall from Freud’s lips, and removes his fingers from the moist warmth to position his cock at Freud’s entrance. He can feel Freud clench in anticipation, his entrance opened and wet and slick and ready.

Freud finds himself breathing hard, shivering slightly at the hardness pressed against his entrance. Eun just stares calmly and hungrily into his eyes, not moving. Freud is just about ready to arch his hips and press himself back against Eun’s length, to fill his aching insides with his hardness, but he realises that Eun is simply waiting.

Immediately, he whispers, ‘Please, Eun.’

‘Please what, Freud?’ comes the breathy reply.

‘Please make love to me, Eun.’

In the faltering light of the candle he sees Eun gently and slowly close his eyes, looking for all the world as if those words alone could make him orgasm right there and then. Eun lets out a low groan of pleasure, hearing it come straight from Freud is something he will never quite get over, he loves Freud when he’s being mysterious but he so loves Freud when he’s being forthright like that.

‘I will,’ he replies, and leans forward.

Freud only has time for one shaky gasp as Eun’s girth slides into him firmly and swiftly, filling him up inside, before Eun’s lips are pressed against his. He arches up to press against Eun’s torso and moans from the pain and pleasure from the thickness that eases into him, from the nipping and tugging at his lips and tongue.

With one long stroke that almost seems neverending and has Freud whimpering into the kiss, he feels Eun finally press up against his ass. He throws his arms around Eun, feeling the strands of his hair brush across his skin as Eun shifts to mouth sweet nothings against his neck. Eun is throbbing inside him, his length hard and throbbing and reaching deep inside, and Freud pants and clenches weakly to adapt and wait for the slight pain to recede.

But it isn’t enough, he wants to feel nothing but Eun and he thrusts back slightly against Eun’s cock, trying to get more friction. Eun pulls away slightly and meets his eyes, again there’s that carnal glint that is almost as bright as the flame flickering just a few inches from Freud’s head.

Then Eun lets out a low moan, lips twisting into a faint smile as he pulls out of Freud. Freud groans at the delicious movement before letting out a sharp gasp as Eun thrusts firmly back into him. He melts, wax in a blazing wildfire of passion as Eun trails his hands down his torso, feeling them rise and fall with every heaving breath he takes, memorizing the very way Freud breathes.

Eun feels as much as sees Freud’s desire and desperation. Freud is tight and deliciously hot around him, clenching tighter and thrusting himself back to meet him on every thrust. The man is writhing, uncaring of his once-precious books and parchment and his eyes glisten with tears from the fierce jolts that wreck his beautiful frame. The more Eun watches, the more he wants to simply wreck the brunette splayed out before him, make him quake and moan and mewl.

He almost misses the whisper of _harder_ that escapes from Freud’s lips, but he is so glad he didn’t.

Freud keens as the friction increases inside him and fights for breath, struggling to keeps his eyes fixed on Eun’s, the rare sight of his amethyst irises lit up in the fires of want. Eun’s breaths are punctuated by soft moans but Freud drowns them with his own, clenching harder to drag as much friction as he can.

He almost howls as Eun wraps a hand around his needy, weeping cock and sets a fierce pace. His vision is going blurry now from the sensations that threaten to overwhelm him, and is at a loss of whether to jerk upwards into Eun’s rough, calloused hand or backwards against Eun’s hard member, resigning instead to let his body fall flat against the table and lets Eun fuck the tension from his muscles, push all other thoughts from his mind, calm the whirling storm and fill it with endless snow of Eun, Eun, _Eun_.

The scholar trembles and throws back his head before clenching viciously on Eun and thrusting against him desperately. He spills his load as Eun’s name falls from his lips and the last of Eun’s composure deserts him at seeing Freud, _his_ Freud now, so unhinged and needy for him. He pounds erratically into Freud, pulling a few more shaky moans before he rams into Freud as far as he can go and climaxes into the giddy heat of Freud’s ass with a soft exhalation of breath.

Eun opens his eyes and looks down at Freud, they are both panting hard, in the gentle and flickering light of the candle he admires the ocean depths of Freud’s eyes.

He leans in. Freud tilts his head to meet his lips, parting his own in silent invitation.

The candle flame sways and falters and goes out.

But they don’t need the light — their love is clear as day.


	2. Dragon Wars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence and non-consent

**2\. Dragon Wars** — Afrieud

It has been too long since Freud has seen the sun. It might have been months or years or maybe just a few weeks but Freud aches to see the sun, and the trees, and the sky… hell, Freud aches to _see_. They’ve tied a blindfold around his eyes, they kick him when they find him in his own shit, they feed him gruel and water at erratic times and make him beg before they let him eat. It is no life to live, but he holds gamely on, forgetting the smell of the grass for the stench of his waste and sweat, forgetting the sound of birds chirping for cackling laughter that rings in his ears as they beat him.

But he doesn’t forget Afrien’s face, his sharp features, his long raven locks, his fiery golden eyes. How can he? He dreams of Afrien, freeing his chaffed wrists from their shackles, holding him close and carrying him out of this hellhole. He dreams of Afrien making love to him on those lonely summer nights when they lose the trail again and everything seems to be going to shit, and it is bliss for a moment until _they_ see him with morning wood and they tease him until he can take no more and then lend him a boot to jerk off against. He dreams of Afrien and he cries into his blindfold, silently lest they hear him, wanting Afrien and yet not wanting Afrien to see him reduced to such a pitiful state.

Yet he wants Afrien to make them pay — _they_ are the Wyverns, the gang he’s tracking, cronies of a vicious man they call Horntail. Freud and Afrien have spent years slowly sniffing down their trail, careful to hide all traces of their investigation. But they’d managed to simply pluck him from the sidewalk and throw him here, naked and bruised and hungry in a dank room somewhere, awaiting his fate.

If Afrien doesn’t save him, Freud knows that he will likely spend his dying moments here, right here in Horntail’s clutches.

One day Freud is awakened from a fitful sleep to a bustle of activity, he hears things banging around. _Don’t try to run or we’ll blow your fucking brains out_ , they tell him, and he doesn’t want Afrien to find his brains blown out so he doesn’t try to run. His wrists are freed from the shackles in the wall and he is pulled onto his feet, which are trembling and weak from disuse. They don’t remove the blindfold as they scrub his hair and wash him down with icy water, and he is eternally grateful that they are merciful to his cock and balls. He is shivering by the time they’re done and they lead him, naked, up stairs and they take so many turns that he is disoriented and opts for following his captors meekly along.

They bid him sit somewhere soft. His mind races, is this his new room? Or is this a formality before Horntail sees him? Someone takes his ankles and he hears the clanking of metal and a gun is pressed against his left temple before he even decides to squirm. He heeds the warning and lets them spread his legs, securing them in the cuffs of a spreader bar, biting back the discomfort from being so exposed. They tie his wrists above his head with cord and test the bonds themselves before letting go and he just lies there, pliant, lips pressed in a thin line and yet terrified that one of them will rape him there and then.

But they don’t. There’s something hard pressed against his entrance and he yelps, instinctively clenching and trying to twist his hips away but the cold metal muzzle of the gun is pressed harder against his temple in warning. He falls still, hating himself, biting back a whimper as they renew the assault on his ass. He clenches harder, his last act of defiance against the plastic they’re trying to force inside him but all it takes is a _click_ from the gun at his temple to show that it’s already loaded and ready to kill, and he grits his jaws and relaxes.

It slips into him, a thin oval-shaped nugget, and he clenches around it, trying to get accustomed to its shape. He pushes experimentally and realises that the edge nearest to his entrance is flared, he doesn’t think he can get it out without someone pulling it out of him. He clenches again and realises it has a rubber cord trailing out of his entrance, and his heart sinks as he realises what it is.

The vibration starts then and it sends waves of pleasure through him, buzzing pleasantly against his prostate. Freud gasps and tries his hardest to push it out, heedless of the gunman now, but he was right, the first of the tremors were making his gut flip and trying to push it out was _clenching_ around it and rubbing his walls all against it, making his efforts futile. He grits his teeth hard, trying to choke down his moans, he hates that something is stirring quickly and unashamedly at the base of his spine and coiling there.

The buzz is infuriating, it’s too weak to make him come there and then and yet it’s too pleasant to stay unaroused, he can feel his cock stiffening and twitching to life. He’s getting hard in front of all the bastards watching him, he realises. The thought makes his cheeks burn, he wishes he knew if anyone was watching him in this humiliating situation, he can’t tell because they’re all silent as they’ve always been from the beginning.

Precome is beginning to trickle down his cock, no matter how he wills it he can feel arousal starting to surge through him, his breathing is getting laboured and he tugs vainly at his restraints. He can’t close his legs, or turn over to rut his sorely neglected member against the sheets, he’s trapped there, his thoughts slowly blurring in the face of that increasingly overwhelming pleasure.

His cock throbs and he lets out a soft moan of frustration. He gives in to his carnal desires and clenches down on the nugget, trying to rub it against his walls to give him just the slightest bit more friction. He hates himself for it, this dirty act, he knows he won’t be able to come but he so desperately needs the stimulation. He tries again and again, squirming and rocking his hips, but the pleasure he gets out of it peaks just under what he needs to make himself come.

Resigned and defeated, he lets himself slump against the sheets, hating how his ass is throbbing too, and involuntarily clenching sweetly around the toy. He lies there for an eternity or maybe two, breathing hard, unable to bite back weak little mewls that make him feel so, so helpless. He feels his cock twitch in protest, his own precome leaking down the shaft and adding to that accursed pleasure he feels. And he can’t do anything except to let them watch.

There’s a low chuckle, a rumble that forces its way into his consciousness. It’s low and guttural, the kind of sound Afrien makes… but it’s tinged with malice, and it makes fear pool in Freud’s gut. The blindfold is wrenched from his eyes and the sudden light makes him cry out, but this man digs viciously sharp nails into his cheeks and forcefully turns his head.

‘Hello, Freud.’

He blinks away the stars and focuses on the man who stands before him, takes in the smart leather jacket and tie that wraps around a lithe frame. He has hair that has the same sheen as old leather, fiercely styled and framing a sinister smirk and bloodied, crimson pupils.

‘It’s nice to finally make your acquaintance,’ he smiles. Freud tries to blink away the blur in his vision to learn the features of this man, perhaps the knowledge might come in useful, eventually. If it does at all.

‘Pity you have to see me… reduced to this,’ gasps Freud hoarsely, as firmly as he can. He meets those red eyes resolutely.

Horntail laughs and lets go of his face. Freud falls back against the bed, shivering too hard to squirm. He’s on a bed in a well-furnished room that looks like a hotel, but he knows better, this is the Wyvern’s base. There are two other cronies in the room, and they both are watching him with thinly veiled interest.

‘Pity you let your guard down, then. I wasn’t expecting it to be so easy to take you.’ Horntail chuckles.

He doesn’t realise that he's backhanded until the room spins and a sharp pain spreads across his cheek. He cries out from the sting, realising that Horntail’s thin, sinewy body hides the true strength that he has. Then he cries out again as Horntail takes the chance to buckle a leather band around the base of his cock.

Horntail works his finger around the tip of his cock idly, the sensation both painful and glorious and Freud can’t help but jerk up against his hand. He lets his eyes unfocus again, Horntail has obliged his mindless thrusting and shaped his fingers into a loose O for Freud to try to get off against. He thrusts desperately but he knows he can’t come, even though Horntail’s fingers are welcome friction, not until the band is released from around his cock.

‘You know, Freud, I have got so many plans for you.’ Horntail is saying, his voice slimy and condescending, ‘Look at how wanton you are… And to think Ereve’s best agent would bend so easily to his human, carnal desires.’

Freud moans weakly in reply as Horntail starts stroking him, his hand moving firmly from tip to base with gentle, perfect squeezes.

‘Everyone spoke so highly of you, you know. Frankly, I expected more of a fight. But I guess they’ll have to make do with their loss. I could do with a personal sex toy, too…’

Without waiting for a reply Horntail gets up, giving Freud a few more ruthless strokes, making him cry out and fall back trembling against the bed. He undoes Freud’s restraints and pulls him to his feet, pulling him flush against him. Freud whimpers as Horntail grabs him by the neck, cutting off his air. He squirms weakly, realising his wrists are locked behind him, not like he can do much with the jolts running through him from Horntail’s hand around his cock and the buzz in his ass. He needs air…

‘See, I must make you look presentable first, dear Freud…’ Horntail croons in his ear and through the darkness that clouds his mind he feels someone wrap a collar around his neck, he hears it buckle into place. ‘I have two gifts for you.’

Horntail’s hand vanishes and he gasps haggardly for air. Horntail purrs and one of his henchmen strides up and cocks his gun, a long-necked revolver. His eyes widen, taking in the thin and long barrel and the little notch on the tip to take aim.

‘Open your mouth, Freud.’

The bastard doesn’t wait before jamming the muzzle of the revolver into his mouth, and Horntail fastens his hand into his hair, holding him still as the man forces the muzzle further in. It presses against the back of his throat, not letting up, and Freud chokes and dry heaves onto it.

‘Freud… Take it in.’ Horntail growls, his voice suddenly menacing. Freud doesn’t, coughing and heaving, ignoring his tears as the gun keeps prodding against his throat, but Horntail wraps his hand around his cock, digging his nails into the sensitive skin and he howls with pain. He forces himself to relax his throat and both men holding him push his torso down. The muzzle of the gun slides into his throat, the surface thin and unyielding, the taste of copper strong on his tongue, and it’s uncomfortable and the notch on the tip _hurts_ as it digs into his soft flesh.

Then he _screams_ as Horntail rips the vibrator out of his ass and slams his own cock straight into him without any warning. He is moist from the stimulation earlier but Horntail is so damned thick that it does nothing to ease the ruthless friction. Horntail is laughing, he can hear it over the sound of his strangled pleas for mercy. His cock is fully inside him, buried to the hilt, and he bites down hard on the gun, whimpering around it as Horntail begins to move.

‘This is your first gift,’ purrs Horntail, as he rocks fiercely in and out of Freud. The blinding pain from his overstretched entrance makes his eyes water and he twitches, his breath coming in sobs now as Horntail fucks him open. His own cock is aching, leaking, in want, the band around it so painfully tight that every throb hurts. The sounds that fall from his mouth disgust him, sounds of pleasure that betray the arousal he’s feeling as Horntail slams against him.

He lets Horntail hold him up, trying to fight breath down despite the merciless rhythm of the cock pounding into his tortured entrance. The pain slowly ebbs away but still the friction remains, and soon there is nothing but urgency filling him up on the inside, driving him to thrust back and clench around Horntail, trying to drag as much pleasure as he can and trying his best to ease the tension in his crotch.

‘And this… is your second.’

The door in front of him slams open. Freud’s eyes widen and tears course down his cheeks, they’re marching Afrien in with his hands behind his back. Horntail grins and thrusts viciously into Freud, jolting his entire frame and pushing a haggard moan from his lips.

‘Horntail,’ hisses Afrien, his golden eyes shining with unspeakable rage.

‘Enjoying the show, fellow dragon?’ Horntail laughs and pats Freud’s cheek. Freud can’t bear to see the pity and disgust in Afrien’s eyes, and he shuts them, whimpering in part pain part pleasure as Horntail grips his hips tighter and thrusts even deeper into him. He swallows around the barrel of the gun, coughing out a sob. Freud wants to disappear, he knows he’s a wreck and his precome is leaking freely and his drool is flowing down his chin.

‘I hope you fucking are.’ Afrien snarls. ‘Because it will be your last.’

Horntail gives Freud another savage thrust that has him trembling and shivering. ‘Honestly, Afrien. You’re in my lair, you know. You can’t possibly say it will be my last.’

‘You’re so fucking naive, Horntail. Did you really think Freud could be taken so easily?’

Horntail stills inside him. ‘What?’

‘There’s a reason why Freud is letting you have your way.’

Freud opens his eyes as the two guards beside Afrien crumple to the ground. Afrien’s poisons are working, as they always do, and with a sharp uppercut he has snapped the neck of the henchman holding the gun in Freud’s mouth.

Freud uses the last of his strength to clench as cruelly and as tightly as he can around Horntail, pulling a howl from the man. Before the sound even leaves Horntail's lips Afrien has slipped the gun out of Freud’s throat. The first bullet buries itself between the eyes of the other henchman. The next four bullets bury themselves in Horntail’s arms and legs, and with a sickening squelch he pulls Freud off the man’s cock and holds him tightly.

He takes aim with the last bullet.

‘Afrien,’ Freud whispers. ‘It’s alright.’

Afrien growls at the comatose man bleeding freely on the ground. ‘Can you let me grind his goddamned prick under my shoe then, if I can’t shoot it off him?’

‘Help me instead, Afrien,’ gasps Freud, burying his nose in the taller man’s shoulder.

Afrien lowers the gun immediately. He tilts Freud’s head up and presses a chaste kiss to his lips, they’re agents, they shouldn’t be kissing or fucking or in love at all. But Afrien pulls the band off, his hand swiftly finding purchase around Freud’s needy cock. And then Freud is spilling his load with a gasp of Afrien’s name and tears of grateful relief rolling down his face.

 

* * *

 

 

‘Must you really?’

‘I don’t see any other way, do you?’

‘Freud —’

‘I’ll be fine. I promise.

A pause. The rustling of skin across sheets.

‘You won’t be. I can’t stop them from beating you up later tonight, can I? Hell, I can’t do anything but wait like a fucking idiot once you leave.’

A pause. Clothes pulled over naked bodies. A low growl.

‘There has to be some other way. Fuck. You can’t… _Fuck!_ Surely there’s another way!’

‘Horntail thinks I’m the one with all the information.’

‘Well he’s right —’

‘So I’m perfect bait.’

A pause.

'I'm the _only_ bait he'd take.'

A short, frustrated sigh.

‘Sometimes I wish you aren’t so fucking smart, and that you’re just some nobody in this whole mess of red tape.’

‘If I was a nobody, I wouldn’t have met you.’

A pause, the rustling of plastic.

‘At least open the fucking window if you’re going to smoke.’

The _ptch_ of a lighter being lit.

‘Gods damn it, Freud. You haven’t smoked for six years. Six fucking years, Freud. And you dare tell me you believe yourself when you say you’ll be fine?’

‘I’ll go smoke in the balcony.’

 

* * *

 

 

‘Yo.’

‘Phantom. Nice of you to be on time, for once.’

‘Excuse you. If I’m late, I’m late after a heist of information gathering.’

‘So I assume you don’t have good news?’

‘A Master Spy is still capable of being on time, you stupid lizard. Horntail has taken the bait.’

‘Did they harm him?’

‘… You wanted good news.’

‘I see.’

‘It’s very noble of you to sacrifice your lover, Afrien.’

‘Freud isn’t my lover —’

‘Tch, don’t try fibbing to a Master Spy. Don’t worry, I didn’t watch you two fuck last night — Hey! Trying to punch me isn’t _thank you_ , you know!’

‘Don’t fucking make jokes like that.’

‘Geez. Should I steal some patience for you too?’

‘Fucking hell…’

‘Afrien. If Freud didn’t do what he did, we wouldn’t have the slightest clue where the Wyverns hide.’

‘I… I know, I know. You don’t need to fucking tell me.’

‘I have more good news. Here. I can’t guarantee they’ll keep that entrance open. But every other entrance I’ve marked on that map should be pretty foolproof. It’s only those ten-ish blocks, anyway.’

‘… Got it.’

‘Keep him safe, Afrien. And you’re welcome.’

 

* * *

 

 

Afrien enjoys the peaceful rooftop garden of Ereve and the comforting weight of the brunette against his shoulder, there aren’t birds or flowers here but there is still sun, there is still breeze, and it is far away from the smog and cars on the street. Far away from the darkness and the damp.

‘You alright?’ Afrien asks, as he always does, when Freud pulls out the box of cigarettes from his pocket and reaches in for one.

Freud nods, it is the most of the answer he’s been giving for the past few days. Afrien wishes he’ll say something, anything more. Gods, he was so fucking scared, the plan had gone awry in the middle because Horntail was taking so long to finally meet Freud for the first time. And even Freud can’t deny it — they were both beginning to fear that the plan had fucked up for good.

Freud brings the joint to his lips and struggles with the lighter. Afrien knows he doesn’t swallow quite right recently, he seems to need to work his throat more. And his hands don’t stop trembling so he all but drops the lighter into his lap when he's done. The brunette’s shoulders rise jerkily as he inhales and Afrien has to school his expression to hide the scowl when he sees Freud’s fingers quivering violently against his lips.

He lets out a sigh and takes the cigarette from Freud’s hands, holding it to his mouth for him. Freud sinks into Afrien’s embrace and sucks in a deep breath of smoke, holding it in his lungs for a few seconds before gently breathing it out through his nose. He really hates that Freud is smoking again, but he really can’t blame him. Afrien hates the smell of smoke as much as Freud hates the rancid taste. Gently, he traces the the stripes across Freud’s wrists that were once chaffed raw, wishing that touch alone could heal them.

‘Maybe we should retire,’ Afrien murmurs.

Freud smiles gently. ‘We _do_ have enough to set ourselves up for the rest of our lives.’

‘And getting Horntail solves half of Ereve’s problems. They should be grateful.’

‘Neinheart will have a fit if we leave.’

Afrien snorts, bringing the cigarette to Freud’s lips again. ‘Well he should appreciate us. You especially, after this whole goddamned fiasco.’

Freud chuckles and takes another deep drag. They sit in silence for a while, appreciating each other’s company.

‘You know,’ Freud hums, ‘I hear that they legalized same-sex marriage in New Leaf City.’

‘Are you proposing to me, Freud?’

Freud blows a ring of smoke at him. For once, Afrien doesn't snort it away.

‘Perhaps. We’ll find out in New Leaf City, if you’ll follow me there.’

‘Only if you quit smoking.’

Afrien pulls Freud closer as he tosses his cigarette away.

They share another chaste kiss in the sunlight. It tastes foul, like tobacco. But it tastes sweet too, like promises of better days. Surely there will be time for healing, and then for love, later on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written to include Noctnoku's FFF art and to write an accompanying fic for Hitsuji's "Fride" Korean doujinshi — it ended in the middle of the action and I needed to know (or to end) the story, so I took it upon myself to write out what my mind's eye saw in the Korean dialogue and to come up with an ending. I also shuffled the order of events slightly as compared to the doujinshi.
> 
> This isn't the traditional horny smut I write, wanted to try something new.~  
> Sorry if any hearts were broken, I know mine was when poor Freud got taken by HT. )


	3. Tea

**3\. Tea — PhanFreud**

It was warm. So warm.

Freud shivered under his blanket, curling up tighter into himself as he fought to draw breath, his thoughts hazy and melding in from one to the next. The last thing he knew was Phantom bringing a cup of tea into his room and setting it on the desk, he had been so busy and merely thanked Phantom before downing the entire mug of it in one swig. And then the room had gradually gotten warmer, or him getting colder, a strange desire creeping up on him, making him restless, jarring his thoughts, discomfort spreading through him and it got so hot — or so cold — that he had to set his head on the desk for a moment, then retire to the bed, then retreat under the sheets for a warmth he didn’t need.

Just what was in the tea Phantom gave him? Was he falling sick? Did the leaves go bad? His breaths didn’t seem to be able to reach his head, or clear his mind, and there was an urgent need ringing in his mind like he wanted something desperately but couldn’t get it. The blood was rushing in his ears and his heart pounding a mile a minute, his body writhing under the sheets like it was possessed as he tossed and turned futilely in his bed. This was unlike anything Freud had ever felt before. And it definitely was not some fever.

‘Freud?’

He peeped out of the sheets to see a thief standing in the doorway, looking very concerned and very calm.

The sight of the Master Thief there sent a strange shiver through him.

Ah, perhaps it was some sort of fever after all.

‘What did you give me,’ gasped Freud breathlessly. ‘I… I feel so… out of sorts…’

‘Did you like it?’

‘Like it?’ Freud hissed. ‘Do I look as if I _like_ it? It’s so… _haa_ … warm…’

‘Hmm.’ Phantom shut the door behind him and Freud narrowed his eyes when he heard the click of the lock.

‘Don’t just _hmm_ at me. Do something.’

Phantom got into bed with him.

‘I knew it.’ Freud hissed and ducked under the sheets, trying to get away from the man so Phantom’s scent, a mix of vanilla and coffee, wouldn’t get to him. ‘I knew you did something to the tea.’

‘But you don’t know why, or what for.’ Phantom’s weight was pressed above him, he shuddered involuntarily, panting hard as he felt Phantom’s heart beat against his chest.

‘You can tell me later. I have another problem right now —’

‘Then let me fix it.’

Phantom pulled the sheets off the writhing brunette below him, ignoring his protests as he crashed his lips against Freud. It was absolutely perfect, the way Freud panted sheer desire through his nose, falling still immediately upon contact, their lashes fluttering against each other as Freud parted his lips for Phantom’s lapping tongue. He could feel the heat all but radiating off Freud’s flushed cheeks, his deep blue pupils wide and blown out and framed by the chocolate brown hair plastered to his sweaty skin.

Was Freud actually grinding against him?

Freud was. He desperately, undeniably, absolutely needed something, and that something was Phantom, who was pressed up against him, his offending white military uniform a frustrating layer keeping his bare skin away. He flung his arms around Phantom’s neck, tugging him closer to feel their chests rubbing against each other best as he could, gasping as Phantom slid his knee between his legs.

Then the worst of his fears were confirmed.

He was horribly aroused.

The slight contact to his groin sparked a wildfire running through him and he gave in, little noises of need and want falling from his hips like rain as he rutted against Phantom’s leg, an uncomfortable tightness erupting in the confines of his jeans and briefs. It only took another grind of Phantom’s knee against his crotch, another whiff of Phantom’s scent, and a glance into his hungry purple eyes before Freud was lost in a wave of uncontrollable desire.

Phantom watched, smiling against Freud’s lips as the dragon master groaned, a low rolling sound of carnal need, and he immediately bent to suck it straight from his mouth, wanting to consume every bit of Freud’s feverish desire. Freud was a mess, unravelling in record time under the gentle touches of his fingers upon his cheeks, darting gently down his jawbone, touching the pulse before dipping down to his robes, playing a guessing game of what treasure he’d find under that royal clothing.

To Freud, Phantom’s admiring touches felt more like hell than anything else, there was so little of it and he was taking his own sweet time undoing one button and then the next almost painstakingly. His hands rubbed over his heaving chest, the friction of the robes against his nipples and the heat from Phantom’s palms making him quiver where he lay, surely his gasping and groaning was a plea obvious enough to the Master Thief?

‘I hate your tea,’ he gritted out, but Phantom merely laughed.

‘No you don’t. Just listen to the kinds of sounds you’re making.’

Another broken groan tumbled from Freud’s lips as Phantom fastened his fingers around Freud’s pert nipples and rolled each one between his fingers, picking at the tip gently with his nail but the dull pain was intoxicating and it mixed with the pleasure of Phantom grinding against the tightness in his crotch so perfectly that Freud arched his chest upwards in search of more. He fumbled with the buttons of Phantom’s shirt while Phantom stripped him efficiently of his pants, by sleight of hand and familiarity with every pair of his jeans.

He finally got the affronting white uniform off and Phantom immediately pressed their torsos together. The feeling of skin on skin sent little electric buzzes across Freud’s body and made him tremble, it was addicting and he couldn’t hold back his haggard groans as Phantom suckled on his shoulders, on his neck, nipping and lapping and making him squirm. The blonde growled low into every bite, pressing his tongue against the skin and sucking hard with his lips pressed up against him, printing a chain of red marks all over the pale skin.

‘Phantom,’ he choked out with difficulty, air was harder to draw as Phantom started nibbling on the erect peak of his nipples. ‘I… I have to —’

One ruthless bite on the nub had static running across his mind and he was bucking upwards to rut against Phantom’s midriff, his weeping cock tensing before orgasm rocked him so hard it had tears coming to his eyes. He groaned into Phantom’s fierce kiss, shuddering as he came.

Phantom broke the kiss, smirking as he wiped up the little bit of come that trickled down Freud’s shaft. It was lesser than he usually gave, but it was all according to plan. Freud slumped down limply on the bed beneath him, eyes dazed from his orgasm, but the bliss that usually flooded his eyes after he got his relief wasn’t there.

And Freud was still horny as all hell, the tightness in his groin had barely even faded — what _was_ this? He had just orgasmed so prematurely, like he was a young teen facing the wrath of his hormones, and Phantom had barely even touched him.

‘Phantom… what… I can’t…’ Freud groaned in frustration as heat rocked his body again, a fresh wave of desire and urgency overwhelming him. Phantom kneeled between his legs, tilting his head like a curious kitten and there was a too-innocent look in his deep purple eyes, laced with five kinds of hunger.

‘We haven’t fucked for two weeks, Freud.’

Freud gasped breathlessly as Phantom loosely grasped his cock and he was thrusting up into the thief’s hand before he even registered that he was doing it, seeking more than just the flitting touches against his shaft. He hardened further as Phantom sucked on a white-coated finger daintily, deep in thought.

‘I just thought to remind you that we’re lovers now. And I hate being second to your work.’

Freud fought to clear away the haze that was settling on his mind but the thoughts eluded him, quashed by a wild rush of pleasure as Phantom gave him a single hard, ruthless stroke.

He whimpered, hands fisting the sheets and trembling against the bed as Phantom pulled his hand away. ‘P-Punishment?’

Phantom nodded as he bent down, nuzzling into the auburn wiry hairs surrounding his weeping cock, tracing up the line to his navel, up his chest, breathing in his scent like a drug… ‘At least your common sense hasn’t deserted you yet. I hate being second to your work while you’re off playing with Luminous and Eun Wol all the time.’

‘I… deadlines,’ gasped Freud, almost delirious as Phantom kissed the hollow in his heaving ribcage.

‘No excuses. Love comes first.’

Phantom nibbled at the skin over his heart, pressing his lips there to feel the mage’s heartbeat clearer, sucking hard with fierce nips. The dragon master was crazed beyond coherent words and resorted to two-week-overdue sweet and wanton moans to convey his desire, but Phantom knew it. He held the bucking hips down firmly, the tips of their cocks touching in an obscene, precome-slathered kiss as he painted a mark and a bruise over the spot where Freud’s heart belonged.

Another savage bite to the hypersensitive skin there, along with the single point of heat resting at the head of his cock, and Freud was coming with a shaky yell. Phantom felt the weak spurt of come coat his shaft before trickling down back onto Freud’s as he pulled away, thumbing the mark partially to remind Freud who he was loving and partially in wonder if Freud would press up against him or try to scoot away.

The mage arched his back, welcoming the pain.

All Freud knew now was that he had never wanted Phantom more. He wanted Phantom so badly, wanted Phantom’s cock in his mouth, wanted it filling up his empty insides, wanted Phantom’s cock — no, wanted Phantom, anywhere, he could come so easily now at the thief’s familiar touches, he was a live wire and Phantom was playing him so expertly with those nimble fingers —

‘… so I am going to remind you who you love,’ Phantom was saying above him, Phantom still in perfect control, Phantom’s piercing gaze and Phantom’s sharply defined features and Phantom’s locks of threaded gold imprinting into his frazzled mind.

‘Y-You, you you. You, Phantom. You.’

Phantom chuckled and a hand was wrapped around his cock, Freud yelped at the sudden tension around him — no, it wasn’t, it was hard and slick beside his, he glanced down and Phantom was jerking them both off together, setting a furious pace that had Freud’s eyes watering from the intensity of the touch.

‘Really now? Me what?’

Freud groaned as Phantom’s grip tightened even further, it was hot and rough and Phantom’s erection pressed up against his felt so painfully hard as well, somehow the only thought that was in his mind was to somehow get that mass deep inside him.

‘I onlyloveyou,’ he gritted out before tensing and spurting another tiny bit of come that was if anything even less satisfying than the first two, gods damn it all he just wanted to come _properly_ in any way, as long as Phantom was the one he was coming to, but it wasn’t hard, his scent and his voice and the sight of the beautiful Master Thief was the only thing he had ever wanted more.

‘Do you?’

Phantom’s hand had never stopped moving and every stroke was pushing him further up that cliff where orgasm awaited except it wasn’t really orgasm and it wasn’t really a cliff, Freud was just bruising himself on tiny little ledges. He slumped limply against the bed, feeling warmth coat him from Phantom’s precome.

Fingers were pressed against his lips and he parted his lips to take them in. Fingers of Phantom’s left hand, so familiar now, the third and fourth finger which Phantom usually used to prepare his entrance for. He lapped at them desperately, quickly coating them in a thick layer of saliva, tasting the mild but slightly bitter tang of his own precome around it. Phantom was watching him intently and Freud latched on to that intense gaze, that hungry beautiful amethyst passionate gaze, as he imagined his lips fastening around Phantom’s cock and tasting his engorged shaft.

He whimpered around Phantom’s cock as the hand around his shaft tightened, but stroke slower to the time of Freud’s slight bobbing and the shift in rhythm quickly encouraged Freud to lap faster. If only it was the taste of Phantom’s hot come upon his tongue rather than the milder taste of his own, how he loved to hold it in his mouth and gather every bit of it before letting it flow down his throat like a rich legendary elixir.

Phantom shivered watching Freud in his blind arousal, never had he seen Freud so desperate and unhinged in the entire time that he had known the mage. He feared he would never get the image out of his mind again, the orbs of sapphire glazed over with lust, those soft pink lips and that ever-moving tongue darting between pearls for teeth as he lapped at his fingers with fervour, those sweet moans that hung in the air and sent a giddy rush to the cock that was pressed up against Freud’s own.

He pulled his fingers away from Freud’s mouth after the mage came again, letting himself a smile — Freud had just come to the thought of sucking him off? Who knew Freud had such deep and dark desires inside him? He stroked them both through Freud’s half-orgasm, watching the brunette shiver as his mouth opened in a perfect circle, admiring the almost-closed eyes peeping out from behind their eyelids as he moaned Phantom’s name.

How many times had he come already? Freud was too drained, too far gone, he let Phantom spread his legs and moaned again when Phantom kissed him, feeling Phantom’s tongue tickle and tease his lower lip before lapping at the sensitive underside of his chin. Tilting his head back to let Phantom have more room, he focused on Phantom’s tongue and heat pressed up against the skin there, arms wrapping around Phantom’s shoulders to pull him closer still.

The sweet friction across his shaft vanished and as he whined his protest, he bucked his hips up in a vain attempt to seek more friction. His cock twitched and throbbed in the cold, he could see it red and so hard it seemed painful, the entire thing glistening obscenely in the sunlight of the afternoon.

The tip of a finger was pressed against his entrance and Freud groaned in relief, he was so wet and horny already that it slid into him without much resistance. ‘A-Another,’ came his voice and he almost found it in himself to be shocked by the shameless demand but the flicker of a thought was dispelled immediately when Phantom slipped another finger into him and began sliding them in and out with earnest.

He twisted in the sheets, rocking his hips, chasing after Phantom’s fingertips and trying to thrust back against them so they would hit his prostate. Phantom watched, knowing what Freud was doing as he squirmed beneath him and he wouldn’t let Freud get the pleasure of feeling well fucked unless it was on his own cock. He kept up the swift pace, and slicked himself with the lube Freud kept under the bed, dripping a glob onto the fingers of his other hand and coating Freud’s walls liberally in the slimy liquid. Freud moaned, the look in his eyes speaking of the knowledge of what was coming next, and Phantom smiled in reply, gods he couldn’t last much longer with his lover so far gone already. He carefully wrapped his middle finger and his thumb of his other hand around Freud’s engorged member, pulling a howl from the mage when he increased the pressure around the shaft.

Scissoring his fingers one last time for good measure he pulled his hand away and grasped his leaking cock, positioning it Freud’s entrance, giving himself a moment to let his eyes rove over Freud’s gasping, desperate frame.

Then he pushed into Freud’s perfect heat, that familiar tightness clenching beautifully around him and Freud responded immediately by making the most obscene sound Phantom had ever heard.

‘Oh… _Transcendents_ ,’ whispered Phantom, a part of him snapping and crumbling into a little pile.

Freud was so fucked now.

Phantom increased the pressure again, leaning his weight over the gasping mage. ‘Where will I find a lover like you,’ he whispered against Freud’s lips, who cared if he couldn’t hear him through his delirious haze.

Freud could only hear his heartbeat, a burst of throbbing notes that beat in time to the pulsing in Phantom’s cock as it filled him more and more and finally Phantom stilled inside him, his crotch connecting with Freud’s ass. He was still rocking his hips, clenching around Phantom to rub his walls against the hardness for every extra bit of pleasure he could get.

He was getting his wish for Phantom to fill him up and gods Phantom had just started moving but he couldn’t come. The friction was overwhelming and he felt so raw like he had been well  and thoroughly fucked, still he couldn’t help himself drowning in the pleasure. He moved in time to Phantom’s thrusts, each stroke filling him perfectly and touching him in all the right places and giving him pleasure in the only way Phantom could.

And Phantom was panting now, breathing hard, watching Freud impale himself on his cock, his ass clenching around him as he pulled out in a silent bid to be filled again. Freud’s soft lips were ever irresistible and he sucked and nipped at the chapped skin and tasted the faint remnants of Freud’s precome on his tongue, a flavour he could never get enough of. He put more force into his thrusts when he realised that Freud was breathlessly mouthing _harder_ against him, hearing his own soft groans of pleasure blending in with Freud’s in the still air of his room.

He pounded more fiercely into Freud, angling himself to hit Freud’s prostate on every deep thrust, chasing after the orgasm that hid away in the depths of Freud’s insides. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Freud, who had fallen limp against the bed and had opted to just moan his pleasure, all sweaty and lost in every jolt of pleasure Phantom pressed into him.

Freud gasped and fought for breath on every stroke, he needed to come, everything was so tight, and the hardness that was ramming into him was making him see stars and he was surely being split open. He was shivering, mind whiting out from the intensity of the sensations that wrecked his frame. Phantom let out one final shaky groan before thrusting erratically into Freud, then slamming his hips against Freud’s ass as he shot his load. Freud tightened viciously around him, still moving to stimulate him through his orgasm just as Phantom loved it, and then he focused his bleary vision on Freud and pulled his fingers away to stroke him.

Merciful friction and heat wrapped itself around his shaft, it only took two firm strokes before Freud was coming with a breathy gasp, throat too hoarse to yell but not hoarse enough to whisper Phantom’s name with the last of the breath he had. He came harder than he ever remembered, the orgasm hitting him in its full and wrecking him down to the tips of his fingers as he quaked and climaxed, releasing the rest of the come he had as thick ropy strings across both their torsos.

Phantom stroked him until he had slumped back against the sheets. His head pounded more fiercely than his heart and he felt too tired to breathe, but at least the urge to come had finally, finally faded and the fever (the fervour?) had finally left him.

A blurry silhouette of gold and purple slid into his vision and his chin was being tilted up by a finger, lips were pressed against his own, a soft and lingering kiss that seemed almost chaste after the wild ride they had just been through.

 ‘I left some silverleaf tea brewing for too long the other day,’ whispered Phantom, ‘I know how you don’t like your tea strong or bitter… so I thought to drink it instead of wasting it.’

Freud chuckled weakly as Phantom combed fingers through his hair, the gentle touch soothing him. ‘I went through the same thing as you… except I didn’t tell anyone because I wanted to keep it a _surprise_.’

 _More like blackmail_ , Freud smirked inwardly as vestiges of sleep began to cloud his vision.

Phantom was purring against his forehead, ‘And I should let you know, the only cure is my come up your sweet ass. Or two days of mind-numbing agony.’

‘Phan… tom…’

‘Well…’ Phantom pulled the sheets over them and cuddled Freud close, ‘If there ever is a next time —’

‘There won’t…’

‘— then I’ll slip silverleaf essence into your drink on a day of a conference.’

Freud rolled his eyes, nuzzling into Phantom’s chest.

Neither of them needed a reply.

There was never a next time. Phantom never needed to feel jealous of paperwork again. Freud learned yet another thing from Phantom, how to love and be loved in return.

And thankfully, through it all, Freud’s tea stayed safe.


	4. Ribbons

**4\. Ribbons — EunFreud**

Freud can feel the silk rub against his throat as he swallows. Smooth, cool fabric, sliding across his skin.

He lets out a tiny exhalation of air into the silence. Movement is not an option when his arms are bound behind him and he’s resting on his calves. The delicate silk holds him still like a frozen dancer, a graceful figure wrapped daintily in streaks of deep, wine red. A living, human statue.

But not being able to move is a blessing. Another small gasp escapes his lips. The silk shifts around him as he breathes, caressing the valleys between his ribs, diagonals that cross each other to intertwine and wrap around his torso, softly and subtly accentuating the two nipples pert in the nighttime chill.

He doesn’t need to move. Silk runs across his lower arms, pulling them together behind him. The soft fabric brushing across the skin of his back are wound into his arms, not too tight that he can’t breathe nor too tight that his hands have gone numb. The bind pulls his shoulders backwards so he has to push his chest out. Now every twitch of his arms tugs at one diagonal or another, and the slightest movement sends pleasant, ghostly touches across a dozen places at once.

But oh, how he wants to move. His bonds make him so much more conscious of every shifting muscle, rewarding his accidental fidgeting with a gentle buzz across his skin, along his neck, down his arms, down the diamonds on his torso, the two diagonals that run in the crease between his thighs and meet at the crack of his ass.

His skin is a wildfire of pleasure, made worse by the thin translucent silk robe he’s wearing, so thin he might as well not be wearing anything at all. It pools around his legs, beside the ribbon that winds above and below his knee cap, holding the angle in place before circling down to his ankles.

Another breath, and this time he wriggles his toes to feel the silk binding his biggest toes together. The movement tugs gently at the rope around his calves, making him shiver and swallow the growing lump of pleasure that he feels.

One more thread extends outwards. It starts from a little damp patch on a thick, soft black quilt. It leads upwards, glistening in pallid moonlight, rising up between his knees opened as far as he can make them go, past the soft wiry hairs around his crotch to connect with the head of his shaft.

A damp stretch of ribbon starts from the flared head and encircles the entire length, snug but not too tight. Then it loops around the base of his balls and runs up between the cheeks of his ass, tracing across his entrance. There’s a little knot conveniently across the opening to tease him _just so_ , pressing a thick glass phallus into him firmly before it ropes back upwards to rejoin his bound thumbs.

He inhales —

feels the silk shift in tandem and send tremors across his skin, feels his entrance clench involuntarily on the glass phallus inside him to rub it against the walls of his ass, feels his cock twitch in its damp cocoon as another bead of precome gathers at the head before trickling down,

— and then exhales.

Nothing to do but sit in this delirious half-pleasure, half-frustration, and wait for his relief.

He shuts his eyes, and inhales again.

 

* * *

 

 

Eun unlocks the door and steps inside, kicking his boots off. They sent him on a wild goose chase for leads that led nowhere. What a waste of good time. A waste of far more time than he wanted to spend away from here. He notes that Freud’s red boots are still exactly where they were left in the evening, and smiles for the first time that night.

At least he still has something to look forward to. He heads to the living room, glancing around to make sure everything is still in place, Freud’s books, the flowerpot in the middle of the table, the red and gold robe draped across the couch, a pair of jeans, briefs, a white shirt, a golden key hanging from its hook.

He forces himself to the bathroom first. Quietly, he slips his jade knuckle off and rinses any dirt away, polishing the metal teeth quickly and efficiently with rag before hanging it along with his vest. Then he slips into the shower, taking care to wash his crotch and use the rose scented soap he knows Freud loves so much, rubbing the lotion across every inch of him.

After towelling his hair dry he gets dressed in his black shirt, decides against wearing trousers, and arranges his heavy leather vest carefully before wrapping his thick red ribbon around his waist. Then he heads over to his room, grabs more of the thin red silk and wraps his arms with it, unable to stop smiling slightly as he relives the memory of drawing silk across porcelain skin.

The sight of that red silk goes straight to his groin.

He can’t wait any longer. He turns on his heel, swiftly gliding over and snatching the golden key, heading upstairs and slowly, ever so slowly, unlocking the last door along the corridor.

It opens soundlessly and he slips inside.

His breath catches in his throat and for a moment he is lost in the sight of pale marble wrapped up in fine silk, red paint on a white canvas bathed in the ethereal glow of the moon. For a moment he forgets what he is doing, lost in the array of knots and strips of silk that holds together a man who is already so drunk in pleasure he might as well be broken.

A faint inhalation of breath slips past Freud’s soft lips.

Silently, he walks up to Freud, admiring the red fabric running down his skin in perfect diamonds, accentuating his lean torso and the two faint valleys running vertically down his midriff. Freud is simply tempting as he is, legs splayed wide open and his cock standing straight out, bundled in red silk, and that cute little bow he left just under the head. He is the object of his darkest desires, dressed in a beautiful silk robe fit for a deity, the essence of his dreams but finally, finally tied down by red ribbon and presented to him here and now upon the soft black quilts.

Shivering with sheer anticipation, he bites hard on his lip as he walks up to the masterpiece kneeling before him. He hears that soft breath again, it is all too loud in the dead silence, and Freud’s lips are slightly parted and stay slightly parted and his tongue is peeking out between the semicircle of perfect teeth like waiting for a single drop of rain from heaven and _gods_ he _simply_ _must,_ _have. Freud._

His hands are unsteady as he undoes the ribbon around his waist, his own cock is aching and needing the warmth of Freud’s mouth which is already open in invitation. But all he does is to squeeze his fingers around the tip, coaxing a bead of precome out before stepping forward.

The crystal orb slips from between his fingers and lands on Freud’s lower lip.

It might as well have been that single drop of rain from heaven. The statue opens his eyes, two glazed orbs or deepest sapphire, so finely polished with desire that they are glazed, the fine chiselled lines along his ribcage shift into motion as his ribcage heaves. Freud breathes, he seems surprised but remembers to draw his lip into his mouth to catch the precome before it falls and is lost forever.

Freud is sculpted sin, knowing exactly how to close his eyes and furrow his brow as if intoxicated by the taste of his precome. His throat bobs and something in Eun snaps when he watches the silk shift around his neck.

‘Tease,’ he whispers, before lunging at the man.

Freud arches against Eun, gasping for breath as the man’s lips crash against his, just a whirlwind of nipping and sucking and teeth knocking. Eun’s tongue presses against his and he sucks fervently as if by sucking any harder he would pull Eun deep inside his mouth, he groans at Eun’s taste and receives a guttural moan in reply. The silk rubs against him everywhere, pulling and tightening in places that he didn’t know could send jolts through him, the rough leather and the strands of Eun’s hair brushes across his chest and the strange mix of sensations makes him whimper.

Eun’s breaths are coming short as he works at the knots at Freud’s wrists with one hand. He drops his other hand to Freud’s entrance and grips the base of the glass phallus, knowing that he’ll be able to see the beautiful, pulsing pinks clearly there. With the thought in mind and a low moan on his lips he tugs the last knot free, pulling the ribbons free from Freud’s arms and Freud clings to him desperately, tugging down his leather robe and fighting with the buttons along his chest.

He bends to fasten his teeth at the patch of skin framed perfectly by red silk, and sucks hard as he quickly undoes the knot around Freud’s toes. He bites down harder when Freud presses his shoulder against him, shivering at the man’s low groan as he slackens the ribbons to give Freud more room to move his legs. Freud’s nimble fingers make short work of his clothes and they’re wrenched down, Eun gasps at the cold, his mind clouding over in pent-up desire as he sucks fiercely one last time before quickly shifting to Freud’s neck, just above the ribbon, and presses his lips against his pulse.

Freud twists, panting hard as Eun sucks wetly there and he only manages to gasp, ‘Eun, p-please, I need you —’ before Eun has shifted to bite harder on the sensitive skin kept almost-raw by the constant rubbing of the silk. Freud arches upwards, groaning, uncaring now, thrusting slightly back against the phallus when Eun grinds it deeper into him. Eun shifts, fastening his teeth hungrily around the skin on Freud’s chest, his arms, his heaving midriff, everywhere, new red marks pressed in the spaces left behind by the red silk, leaving fierce welts that will stay there for days as Freud gasps and squirms beneath him. Eun’s cock is rutting against his midriff, leaving smears of precome that sear his skin. They lock eyes.

And then Eun is carefully pulling the glass phallus from Freud’s throbbing asshole, the sickening squelches mixing beautifully with the brunette’s shaky groans, this chilling chorus that rings loudly in Eun’s ears as he watches Freud unravel before him, fall apart before him, a wrecked mess only held together by the red ribbons encircling his perfect frame.

Freud rocks back against the hard mass inside him, twisting his hips to get more friction but it is gone too soon. Freud whimpers in protest, his ass suddenly feeling too empty after being filled to bursting for so long. Eun hushes him gently, slipping two fingers into his mouth absentmindedly as he searches for the oil, where is the oil? Freud sucks desperately, eyes shut as if it can quell the urge inside him, tongue flicking about the knuckles, tasting his own precome on Eun’s fingers. Finally digging the bottle of oil out from between the sheets where it had fallen over, Eun slathers his other hand in it generously, shivering from the wiped-out expression on Freud’s face, willing himself not to come as he slicks himself.

He glances down at Freud’s throbbing entrance, already slick and opened and ready for him.

‘You’ve kept me waiting long enough,’ hisses Freud, panting, blue eyes flashing sheer desire through dark lashes.

‘Sorry,’ whispers Eun but he doesn’t mean it. He grabs his cock eagerly and fits it to Freud’s waiting opening.

He doesn’t expect when Freud clings to his shoulder, wrapping his legs around his waist to give him leverage to thrust back upon his cock. Eun howls at the sudden tightness as Freud clenches viciously around him and encases his entire length in one smooth stroke that only familiarity can give.

Freud gasps into Eun’s hair, blinking away stars (maybe he didn’t think that through well enough) before he clenches again, feeling Eun’s frame tremble against his. He groans, cock aching in its silk casing and he yelps as Eun gives him a savage thrust, eyes watering from the intensity of the friction. He clenches again and rakes his fingers down Eun’s back, smirking blearily as Eun hisses in pain, but he knows from the glint in his deep purple eyes that it is equal parts pleasure to discomfort.

Eun starts to move, thrusting quickly in and out of him, and he gasps on every thrust, Eun knows how to angle his hips to get that perfect slide in one go. His breaths come short and Eun’s cock pistoning into him force groans to fall from his lips, Eun is caressing his back and torso, fingers darting between the silk to press against each mark he made, his heady gasps and moans of desire rolling across Freud’s shoulders.

Freud rakes his hands down Eun’s back again to see the glint of animalistic pleasure in his eyes, imagining the raw red lines that mirror the silk upon his own skin. He suckles hard on Eun’s shoulder and doesn’t let go even as Eun’s thrusting becomes more erratic, the rapid hardened mass sending tremors through him and tightening into a pit at his groin, far tighter than he has been for too long.

‘Eun, gods, Eun,’ he moans weakly into the night air and Eun lunges for his mouth again, sucking the little sounds from Freud’s lips before they even escape.

One more thrust and a firm squeeze around Freud’s weeping cock and he comes with a yell, tensing again like the silk is tightening all around him, clenching hard on Eun’s hard and throbbing mass as he shoots ribbons of come across Eun’s torso. Another few more erratic thrusts into the warm friction and Eun is pressed up against him in the merciful tightness, thrusting deep into Freud before he climaxes. He vaguely registers Freud’s nails clawing into his back one final time, welcoming the sweet pain, before slumping against Freud’s heaving torso.

They lie there panting for a long while, until their breathing evens some, before sharing a gentle kiss. Then Freud mock huffs breathlessly and pushes him off. Eun rolls onto his side carefully, sliding out of Freud’s warmth with a mock whimper and lying limply against the black quilts, trying to blink the stars away from his vision.

‘You’re late,’ mumbles Freud, burrowing into his neck.

‘Sorry,’ Eun whispers again, humouring the man, letting his eyes fall shut.

Freud’s weight shifts on top of him, straddling his midriff. He opens his eyes, lingering on Freud’s dishevelled, after-sex, dazed expression, admiring the sparkle that always dances in the depths there like some lost treasure on the ocean floor. Carefully, he sits up, running a gentle hand down Freud’s torso, down the silk robe pressed between Freud’s skin and the silk ribbons that are damp in some places from Freud’s sweat, damp from precome nearer his crotch.

‘I love you,’ he mumbles into the darkness. He doesn’t care if Freud misses his soft words.

But Freud, only Freud, always hears. ‘I love you too,’ he smiles, and at that moment he doesn’t even care if the whole world forgets him, because Freud is his, all his, right here and now, until forever, until time itself runs dry.

He brings Freud’s hand to his lips for a kiss but Freud taps against his mouth, making him blink in surprise.

The man is glaring at him sternly. ‘No kisses for you, because you came home late.’

‘But Freud,’ he protests as Freud busies himself with braiding his long brown hair.

‘No buts. Why were you back so late? And making me wait so long, too. With that fat glass phallus inside me no less.’

He laughs at Freud’s indignation and settles for watching Freud work at his hair, smiling softly. Freud’s merely teasing, and he knows it, so he’s content to let the comfortable silence stretch on as the scholar’s agile fingers work the strands into a braid, his own version of the ribbons.

‘Freud, you know we have to take a bath before bed, right?’

‘Mhmm.’ Freud holds his finished braid in place distractedly and reaches for Eun’s hand, undoing the red silk there.

‘And I’ll need to wash my hair…’

‘I know.’ Deftly, he secures the braid with the red ribbon and then pulls back to look at his handiwork.

Eun admires the image of Freud admiring him, and decides that nothing will ever beat this, even if he has to take another shower and wake up with a bad hair day tomorrow.

‘I love you, Freud.’

‘And I, you.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late! School's catching up. But suddenly had the urge to write something delicate. Which turned into super rough sex at the end WHOOPSIES poor freud. /laughs
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed!


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